


Closer

by flerovium



Series: Internet Friends AU [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flerovium/pseuds/flerovium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ABANDONED FIC] Can be taken as a sequel to Distance; Oikawa and Iwaizumi are online friends who have arranged to meet for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry in advance, this first chapter turned out really fluffy and domestic and way less angsty than I'd planned. I'll try to amp it up a little in following chapters, and add in some new characters/ships.
> 
> Also, as in Distance, I've got them referring to each other here with their given names due to the nature of their friendship.

Oikawa Tooru was beginning to get frustrated.

He was always told he was a bit of a flirt, and for good reason. While it wasn’t always, or even usually, with the intention of showing much real interest, it was just the easiest way he knew to communicate. Regardless, people always noticed when he was flirting, and they always responded in one of a couple ways.

The shier ones blushed, getting flustered as Oikawa delivered his lines with a cocky grin on his lips. The more confident ones would flirt back, taking his extroversion in stride. They were the ones Oikawa liked the best; they were the most fun.

Iwaizumi was the biggest outlier he had ever met.

He never showed signs of being embarrassed, although though they mostly communicated through text so it would be difficult to tell either way, and he certainly never flirted back. He wasn’t even like those in between the two extremes, who might laugh or brush him off. Oikawa, for as long as they had known each other, could not for the life of him figure out what Iwaizumi was thinking whenever he tried to work the charm he knew he had.

He wouldn’t normally be so put off by this, but perhaps that could be attributed to the fact that Iwaizumi was the only person lately Oikawa was legitimately interested in. So it was understandably frustrating when he tried even some of his best lines, little comments sprinkled through every conversation, and got absolutely no reaction.

Oikawa couldn’t decide if he was rejecting him, or if he was just dense as a brick. Even the times they were able to video call each other, he couldn’t detect any sort of proper reaction.

Now, though, he hoped things would go differently, because after knowing each other for years, he was finally going to meet Iwaizumi in person.

*

Getting to Japan was taking way too long. Oikawa had intended to get to the airport two hours before the plane was scheduled to leave, and nearly fell into a full blown panic when his bus got stuck in traffic, but was only a little relieved (though mostly irritated) to find out that his flight had been delayed by over an hour anyways. Once he finally boarded and the plane took off, it was nearly ten hours for him to sit with his too long legs cramped in an uncomfortable economy seat, left to dwell on his anxiousness without interruption.

He almost felt bad; he would be meeting Iwaizumi that day and was already chewing his nails until they nearly bled. The poor woman sitting beside him seemed concerned, but obviously a little too uncomfortable with his jittery behaviour to comment.

Nothing could distract him; he tried to watch a movie, but the protagonist’s neatly spiked hair only reminded him of Iwaizumi. He wondered if the similarities ended there, or if Iwaizumi would be tall like the actor on screen. He certainly seemed to have the personality of someone whose height had never been much of a hindrance. (Of all the things they’d talked about, Iwaizumi had never mentioned it.) Music was of no use either. With the lack of visual stimulus he was left to create scenes in his own head, which all wound up going about in the direction he would have expected.

After far too long, Oikawa perked up as he saw the seatbelt sign light up, and two voices announced, one after the other in both Japanese and English, that they would soon be landing at Narita International Airport, in Tokyo, Japan at 5:04pm local time.

At this point, nothing would quell the butterflies making a mess of his insides. He wanted to get out of the plane as soon as possible, would have sprinted if it weren’t for all the damn passengers grabbing their bags from the bins above the seats. (Of course, Oikawa Tooru was nothing if not polite so he still made sure to help the shorter passengers with their rather heavy carry-on luggage, his own already on the floor at his feet.)

It felt good to finally properly stretch his legs (apart from his brief bathroom break around the six-hour mark), despite his bad knee aching after being confined for so long. He would have to remember to take his pain medication once he had the opportunity.

 **Tooru** : Just landed!!!

 **Hajime** : Good timing. I’m at the airport, heading to your gate now.

Eventually, after the other passengers moved along so everyone could exit the plane, he was left waiting in line at customs, and was relieved to be able to speak in his native Japanese without being assumed a tourist. Finally, he was waiting once again, but for the last time, at the luggage carousel.

His left ring finger was bleeding at the nail as he tried half-heartedly to wipe it off with his thumb, his right foot was getting tired from tapping it so much, and he had been too nervous for almost his entire flight to hold down any food, so he was starving.

But it would be worth it, he told himself. He was going to see his best friend.

When he next looked, his bag was rolling along, rough light brown fabric and pale blue details contrasting with the plain grey and black of the suitcases beside it. He hurriedly snatched it off the carousel and clipped his matching carry-on (as much as he was polite, he also made sure to be coordinated. Some called it gaudy, but who were they to judge?) to the spot on the back for which it was intended.

Oikawa would be too prideful to admit to anyone, but he ran to the exit, where Iwaizumi had texted him he would be waiting. Before he turned the corner, he stopped to take a deep breath, trying to will away the flush he could tell was already tainting his cheeks red.

He didn’t see him right away, but all of a sudden the small cluster of taxi drivers and nervously awaiting family and friends moved to let someone through, a young student, looking a little out of breath (did he run here?). His hair was cropped short, stuck up in spikes less deliberate than the hair of the protagonist of the movie Oikawa had been watching. Oikawa couldn’t see from this far away what colour his eyes were, but he remembered from photos that they would be a very dark green, looking almost black except in the bright sunlight from his trip to Miyakojima with his family last summer.

Oikawa had intended to be a little more composed greeting Iwaizumi, perhaps with just a wave and a smile, but for a moment he forgot his pride, and ran to hug his best friend over the thin belt barrier preventing people from crowding the gate.

As they stood, not saying anything, both in disbelief at finally meeting despite having organized this months ago, Oikawa noticed a couple things. First, he smelled nice. There was a faint scent of cologne clinging to him that was mostly faded, perhaps because he would have put it on hours ago. Iwaizumi’s shoulders were also unfairly broad, and he felt sturdy under his arms. But mostly;

“Hajime,” he pulled away from the hug and held Iwaizumi’s shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “Why did you never tell me you were tiny?”

Iwaizumi looked surprised for a moment, then glared at him. “Come on, is that really how you greet me, Tooru? Besides I’m not short, you’re just a lanky giant, it’s not my fault.” He pouted a little and punched him lightly on the arm.

Oikawa laughed lightly, and Iwaizumi smiled at the sound. “Sorry, sorry,” he removed his hands from Iwaizumi’s shoulders. “We should probably move, I think we’re in people’s way.” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

“Alright. Head over to the left, the exit we want to take is over there.” Iwaizumi was smiling too.

Oikawa was nearly skipping as he made his way around the barrier, and as soon as Iwaizumi was in reach again, Oikawa was latched onto his arm, practically hanging off him with the hand not dragging his rather heavy luggage behind him.

He couldn’t really believe he was really meeting Iwaizumi in person. It was almost unbelievable, really, the fact that the person he’d been talking to for so long, the person he’d been trying so hard to flirt with so unsuccessfully, the person he trusted probably more than most if not all of his real life friends, was finally here in front of him, real and tangible.

They got a cab from the airport, and the ride back to Iwaizumi’s apartment wasn’t too long. He had moved out of Miyagi and into Tokyo for university that winter, though Iwaizumi had promised they would stay with his family for a couple days so Oikawa could visit his old prefecture. It had taken some convincing to get Iwaizumi’s parents to allow the visit. Apparently they were rather strict, and the idea of meeting up with someone their son only knew through the Internet wasn’t something they liked much. But, after a couple Skype calls with Oikawa at his most charming, and some convincing speeches from Iwaizumi, they managed to convince them. It helped that Iwaizumi had already moved out, so he reasoned with them that Oikawa would visit anyways and they might as well meet him.

“I’m gonna bet you’re pretty tired, yeah?” Iwaizumi interrupted a lull in their conversation.

“Ah, only a little. It’s still early, so if you’d like to do something tonight that’s alright,” Oikawa replied. It was only partly the truth; he was rather exhausted after a long day of travelling and would love to shower, eat, then sleep, but he also hated the idea of interrupting Iwaizumi’s plans.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I can see you practically falling asleep in your seat. Tell you what, when we get to my apartment, you can take a shower and I’ll make dinner. I have ingredients in the fridge already, and I’ve been told I’m a decent cook.”

“Hajime is such a good host,” Oikawa smiled for what felt like the thousandth time that evening, but was interrupted by a yawn ripping through his throat. “And I suppose I am pretty tired.”

Iwaizumi didn’t respond, only smiled lightly at the driver’s seat in front of him, shaking his head before looking back at Oikawa. “Oh, and you have a bad knee, right? Is it doing okay after being on the plane all day?”

“Ah, that’s right!” Oikawa had forgotten about his pain medication in his excitement. “Do you have a bottle of water? I ran out.”

“Yeah, I usually keep one on me.”

He pulled the small travel container of medicine from his jacket and grabbed the water bottle Iwaizumi offered from his bag, quickly taking two tablets and chugging the rest of the bottle. “Thank you for reminding me. If I don’t do something about the swelling it’ll only be worse tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. How did that happen, anyways? I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”

“Nothing really. I was practicing and I suppose I pushed it a little too hard. There were already some genetic problems, and volleyball wasn’t great for it. I don’t care though, it’d be no fun without volleyball.”

“You really need to learn to take better care of yourself, idiot,” Iwaizumi glared at him.

Oikawa laughed, “What, are you my mom, Hajime?”

“Oi, shut up asshole, I’m trying to be considerate here.” Iwaizumi huffed at him, unamused at his joking. Oikawa just snickered in response.

The taxi pulled up to the apartment soon after that little exchange, the driver parking the car and the pair of them hopping out of the back seats. Oikawa handed Iwaizumi enough money to cover half of the fare, then moved to get his bags from the trunk.

They let themselves into the building (or rather, Iwaizumi let them in) and they both stepped into the elevator because, while the apartment was only on the third floor, Oikawa’s luggage was heavy, and they both silently decided they wouldn’t bother trying to carry it up the narrow staircase.

When they finally got inside, Iwaizumi having struggled a little with the key and muttering something about a stiff lock, Oikawa was somewhat surprised. If he‘d guessed, he would never have assumed that Iwaizumi was a particularly neat person. He always gave off an air of blunt nonchalance, and while he didn’t exactly seem like a messy person, he felt like someone who did the dishes but didn’t bother wiping the counter unless it was noticeably covered in food, or who would get rid of discarded clothes in the living room, but would happily leave the couch pillows in disarray. Instead, the apartment was almost pristine. Overall, the place had a pleasantly homey atmosphere, with an older looking couch in front of a simple wooden coffee table and a couple transparent cabinet doors in the kitchen showing colourful coffee mugs and neatly arranged bowls and plates, and everything in sight was perfectly organized. Rather uncharacteristic of college boys, but Oikawa figured he wasn’t really one to judge.

“Wondering why it’s so clean?” Iwaizumi turned to him.

“Hm, I just wouldn’t have guessed that Hajime’s apartment would be so neat,” he replied absently.

“I don’t really mind a little mess for the most part, although I’d prefer it not be too disgusting. My roommate’s the one who likes the place looking like this. I mentioned him before, right?”

“Yes, yes. The setter from a high school near yours, right?” Oikawa did remember a roommate mentioned once, but he couldn’t recall the name.

“Yeah. He’s friendly, I’m sure you’ll like him, but he usually does his own thing. He’s away this weekend, though, staying with his boyfriend on the other side of the campus.”

Oikawa just nodded at that. He’d meet the guy soon enough.

“You want to have a shower? No offense, but you stink like airplane,” Iwaizumi side-eyed him.

Oikawa gasped. “So rude! I smell wonderful, thank you very much.”

Iwaizumi just rolled his eyes. “Do you want the shower or not?”

“Yes.”

“Down the hall, second door to the left, there’s a navy towel on the counter beside the sink, you can use that one. Is udon okay for dinner?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you!” Oikawa sing-songed.

Oikawa grabbed his shampoo, soap, and some extra clothes from the top of his suitcase and made his way over to the bathroom.

As he had expected, the bathroom was about as neat as the front of the apartment. A mirrored cabinet above the sink likely held most of the bits and pieces, with only a toothbrush and some mouthwash that Oikawa suspected was Iwaizumi’s lay beside the sink next to the promised towel.

The shower spat a couple times before spraying to life. The moment it hit Oikawa’s hand it was cold as ice, probably because it hadn’t been used since at least that morning, but it warmed quickly. Oikawa always turned the shower water as hot as his skin could handle.

He wondered if Iwaizumi took hot showers. Probably not, he reasoned. He looked like the type to leave the water at only lukewarm.

Oikawa quickly realized that he should probably not be thinking about Iwaizumi showering while he was just in the next room.

He tried to finish his shower quickly (maybe he could help Iwaizumi with dinner, although the results may be dubious), but still wound up taking nearly fifteen minutes. He never understood how some people could shower in under five; it just didn’t leave time for anything other than a quick shampoo and a face wash. Especially after flying, it just felt so much better to take his time to wash off properly.

When he finally got dressed and emerged from the bathroom, the smell of udon was flowing from the kitchen throughout the apartment. Iwaizumi stood by the kitchen sink, cooking the vegetables. He hadn’t noticed Oikawa yet; the fan above the stove was whirring loudly to clear the smoke from the cooking meal.

“Can I help? I’m not very good at cooking, but I could chop something?” Oikawa sounded less sure of himself than he would’ve liked, but what could he do. Cooking was never a strong suit of his, and he wasn’t allowed to practice after the Yakisoba Incident (capitalization necessary).

“It’s fine, I’m almost done. We don’t have a dining table or anything, so you can just chill on the couch if you want until it’s finished.”

“If you’re sure. I feel so unhelpful, though! You’ve been doing everything for me since I got here,” Oikawa pouted.

Iwaizumi didn’t respond to that, only waved him off over his shoulder. Oikawa huffed and turned to plop himself on the couch. The cushions gave easily under his weight, not as stiff as the ones in his home, and the texture was a little rough, not enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough to feel worn.

A few minutes later, Iwaizumi looked over at him and told him he could come and serve himself. The udon looked good and smelled even better, and Oikawa was starving, so he gladly helped himself to a large serving. They went back to the couch, Oikawa resuming his former position, with Iwaizumi beside him.

“Want to put on a movie? We have some here, or there’s probably something on TV,” Iwaizumi suggested, breaking the quiet atmosphere.

“Sure! I love movies. Do you have any sci-fi?” Oikawa brightened.

Iwaizumi sighed. “And of course he wants an alien movie,” he mumbled, probably more to himself then Oikawa. “We might. You can check the shelf over there, or there’s Netflix. You could try the sci-fi channel too, but I can’t remember what number it is. By the way, if we’re really gonna watch some sci-fi bullshit, I get to choose next time.”

Oikawa grinned to himself and hummed lightly before hoisting himself off the couch and towards the shelf Hajime had indicated. “That’s fine. I’ll watch whatever action movie you want next time, no matter how boring it is.” The smile didn’t fade.

“Hey, if anyone’s taste in movies is boring, it’s yours.” Iwaizumi followed him and shoved his arm lightly, disturbing Oikawa’s search.

“I can’t believe how lame your movie selection is, Hajime. But look! You have Star Wars, I’m always ready to watch this,” Oikawa grabbed the movie he wanted and moved to plop back in his seat.

Oikawa had always loved aliens. Ever since he was a little kid and his older sister made him sit down and watch _Kyuketsuki Gokemidoro_ with her. Of course, he had been terrified of it at the time and had nightmares for days afterwards, but ever since had developed a bit of an obsession with anything to do with aliens and space travel. He would have liked to study astronomy if he wasn’t planning to go national with volleyball.

Although Oikawa was enjoying himself with tonight’s movie greatly, he was exhausted. Without thinking about it, he leaned his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and closed his eyes during a quieter part in the plot. He didn’t need the backstory anyways, he’s already seen these movies countless times.

As he rested, he didn’t notice Iwaizumi’s light blush colouring his tanned skin, nor did he notice falling asleep on the couch, and wouldn’t until he awoke the next morning with a blanket wrapped around him and the smell of coffee floating in from the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> I will update whenever I can, but it will take a while. I'm very busy with school work pretty much at all times, but I'll do my best.
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ahobajohsai or @knightoftimevevo


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